


One Year

by Not__Misha__Collins



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Brain Cancer, Cancer, Chase and Cameron are just FWB, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Gen, House has cancer, M/M, Multi, No feelings develop for this au, Polyamory, Terminal Illnesses, s3e15 Half Wit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 23:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6880102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not__Misha__Collins/pseuds/Not__Misha__Collins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which House actually has brain cancer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Wilson,” House said.  
“Hmm…” Wilson was looking over another patient’s file, which he set down.  
“Eleven months,” House said, “Two weeks, four days.”  
“You’ve been counting?” Wilson sounded disappointed, “You know the year is just a rough estimate, right? Could be ten months, a year and a half…”  
House just stared blankly.  
“You’re a good friend…”  
“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all sappy with me.”  
Wilson sighed. Of course House would avoid discussing his own fate, and Wilson wasn’t going to force him.  
“I won’t force you to talk about it.”  
“Good.”  
There was an awkward silence before Wilson spoke up. “Have you been having any symptoms?”  
“You said you wouldn’t talk about it.”  
“There’s medicine for the pain, and some of the symptoms.”  
“I don’t need medicine.”  
Wilson laughed. Then, he noticed something different. His friend’s hand was shaking. Loss of motor function? No, something else. Anxiety, maybe. Makes sense considering House’s shortened life span.  
“Are you feeling okay?” Wilson asked, “I mean, emotionally. Depression? Anxiety?”  
House gave him a cold glare.  
“Right,” Wilson nodded, “Want to go for lunch tomorrow?”  
House just nodded.  
…  
Chase and Cameron. Cameron and Chase. The two ran through his mind again and again, and when he saw them in the janitors closet…Why does she get the little wombat? In what world is that fair? And House takes the day off, one day closer to dying, to do nothing but lie in bed and think. Think about Wilson, Foreman, Cuddy, Cameron, Chase. Would they miss him? Would they care?  
Chase. The little wombat could never love him. Besides, he has Cameron. Also, House did punch Chase, and you can’t hit a wombat, they’re too cute and fuzzy.  
His team could never see him like this, nor Wilson, or Cuddy. House is weak, and he knows it, and that’s how he’ll be treated. He can’t let them see him cry, be this torn up over…FUCKING CHASE!


	2. Chapter 2

“What is the matter with you?” Chase asked.  
“It’s called a hangover,” House dismissed.  
“You’ve been acting weird lately,” Chase said, “Weirder than usual.”  
“What would you say is my usual amount of weird, wombat?”  
Chase sighed.  
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was jealousy.”  
House laughed.  
“I don’t get jealous.”  
Not of you, at least, House thought.  
“I didn’t know you had a thing for Cameron.”  
“I don’t. And I’m not jealous of YOU.”  
Chase stared at him, before his eyes widened.  
“Wait…”  
“Well, time for lunch,” House announced, leaving the office.  
...  
“He’s screwing with you,” Wilson said.  
“But…” Chase began.  
“House has bigger things to worry about than trying to sleep with you.”  
“Right,” Chase lamented.  
“Have you talked to him about this?”  
“It’d be awkward.”  
“More awkward than sleeping with Cameron?”  
“He’s my boss.”  
“Chase!” House barged into Wilson’s office.  
“Speak of the Devil,” Wilson said lightly.  
“You. Out.” House pointed to Chace, then the door, and looked to Wilson, “We need to talk.”  
…  
Later that day, Chase stayed after his shift to do some paperwork. He hadn’t realized House was in the building until he was tapped gently on the back of the head with a cane.  
“Hello, Wombat,” House said.  
“House.”  
“What are you doing here?”  
“Paperwork.”  
“Boring.”  
“Yes,” Chase stopped filling out forms for a moment, “Can I talk to you?”  
“Are you not doing that right now?”  
“No, I mean…What you said the other day.”  
“I say a lot of things,” House became internally nervous.  
“You’re jealous of Cameron,” Chase said, “Because you didn’t get to me first.”  
“Pfft.”  
“Look, you don’t have to worry,” Chase said, “I’m not mocking you, or…”  
House just glared at him until he was silent.  
“I won’t tell anyone.”  
The older doctor considered this.  
“Suppose for a moment, I WAS into you. And, I’m not saying I am. What would you say to that?”  
“That’s a good question,” Chase said, “And, you should know, Cameron and I aren’t together. We’re just…”  
“Fuck buddies.”  
“Yeah,” Chase laughed at House’s cursing.  
“So, what would you say?”  
“I just said…”  
“No you didn’t.”  
Chase rolled his eyes and stood up, pulling House toward him and planting a kiss on his lips. A smile crossed House’s face, barely noticeable.  
“While not technically an answer, I will accept that.”  
Chase laughed again.  
“Have you had dinner?” House asked.  
“No…But, it’s nine-o-clock.”  
“Bet we can find a place.”  
…  
House woke up with the worst migraine of his life, and the Wombat sleeping peacefully on the couch. It’d been late when they finished eating, and Chase was too tired (or drunk) to drive home, so he crashed on the couch. Congratulations, you’ve won a Wombat! Enjoy the last few hundred days of your life. Time is ticking.  
House grabbed some of the medicine Wilson had given him for migraines. The strong stuff, it made him tired and a bit nauseous, but at least he could think clearly. And who the hell turned up the lights? Chase might suspect something if he saw the meds, so House kept them hidden. The Wombat doesn’t need this on his shoulders, he shouldn’t worry about House.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im back! I haven't given up on this story, and it was meant to have a few more chapters.


	3. Chapter 3

Cameron and Foreman stared knowingly at House and Chase as they entered the office together.  
“What?” Chase asked innocently.  
“Nothing,” Cameron said.  
“No, not a thing,” Foreman confirmed.  
“You…We…No,” Chase stuttered, “No, no.”  
“It’s okay, Chase,” Cameron said, “We’re not together, you know this.”  
“We…We didn’t…We’re not…” Chase went red as House smacked his bottom.  
“Wedding’s next Tuesday,” House grabbed a file and headed for the door, “Bring your own beer!”  
“I have to go,” Chase followed House out the door.  
…  
“What was that?” Chase demanded.  
“What?”  
“You slapped my…” Chase cut himself off.  
“It’s okay, you can say ‘ass.’”  
Chase sighed.  
“You’re embarrassed.”  
“Hard not to be when you slap my ass.”  
“Not what I meant.”  
“Oh. I’ve not been with a man before. I don’t…know how people will take it.”  
House patted Chase on the shoulder.  
“Cameron and Forman aren’t known for their homophobia. Wilson, on the other hand…”  
…  
“You told him I hated gay people?” Wilson scolded.  
“No,” House defended, “Told him you were clearly repressing something.”  
“You’re unbelievable,” Wilson replied, “I have nothing against…”  
“I know. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be friends with me.”  
Wilson rolled his eyes.  
“Any symptoms?” He asked.  
“Yes,” House answered simply.  
“New symptoms. Confusion, loss of vision, blackouts, seizures?”  
“No.”  
“That a real no or a House no?”  
“No.”  
Wilson sighed. He knew House wouldn’t tell him even if a new symptom did pop up. And that any suggestion to take time off would be rejected.  
…  
Two weeks later, and House’s pain was getting worse. A few of the migraines started to give him tunnel vision. Chase doesn’t know. House somehow manages to hide the pain and the medicine. The Wombat sleeps in his bed, and snores. House waited until Chase fell asleep before talking to him.  
“You can’t hear me,” House began, gently petting the Australian’s hair, “Good. I don’t even know how the hell I managed to…You’re amazing, Chase. I should have said something sooner, before this happened, before the diagnosis. I don’t know how long I’ve got. About a year, they said, but…no one really knows.”  
Chase’s eyes shot open as he faced House, completely miserable.  
“You’re going to die?” His voice squeaked.  
The darkness covered the color draining from House’s face.  
“I thought you were asleep.”  
“Why would you keep that from me?” Chase began to cry.  
“Because it doesn’t matter.”  
“Doesn’t ma…You’re going to die! Don’t you DARE tell me that doesn’t matter,” Chase sniffed, and House was silent, “You knew. Going into this, you KNEW you were dying…”  
“See, this is why I don’t tell you things.”  
Chase thought for a moment.  
“You think I’m going to leave you?” He asked.  
House didn’t answer.  
“I’m not,” Chase said.  
“Hmm.”  
“Of course you won’t believe me,” Chase said, “That’s why you can only open up to me when I’m unconscious. But we’ll get through this. And, Foreman and Cameron and Cuddy will…”  
“Don’t tell them.”  
“You honestly expect me to keep this from them?”  
“Yes.”  
“And what about when the symptoms show?” Chase asked, “When you collapse in your office or you can’t work anymore. What’ll I tell them then.”  
“Nothing. That’s not your job.”  
House turned in the other direction.  
“You’re not alone in this.”  
The older doctor smiled as he fell asleep, feeling Chase’s embrace.


	4. Chapter 4

“Have you been having sex with Cameron?”   
Chase was caught off guard.  
“What? No, of course not.”  
He’s telling the truth, House figured.  
“Do you want to?”  
“Does it matter?”  
“Why wouldn’t it?”  
“Well, I was under the impression that we were in a monogamous relationship.”  
“And I am under the impression that you have needs,” House said, “Specifically, for sexual contact with those of the opposite sex.”  
Chase was silent, listening.  
“Forgot to erase your internet history,” House winked.  
“You go on about watching porn all the time,” Chase said, “Besides, it’s nowhere near close to…cheating.”  
“Not cheating if I give you permission.”  
“You’re…serious?”  
“Of course. I’m leaving you high and dry. It’s only fair.”  
“This is a test,” Chase figured.  
“No test. No tricks. Promise.”  
…  
“It’s a test,” Chase said.  
“You’re sure he said…” Cameron started.  
“Yes.”  
House can’t think straight anymore. That’s it. He doesn’t really want you to…  
“Maybe he’s serious.”  
“You think so?”  
“Why else would he tell you…”  
“It’s House.”  
…  
Who takes a shower at two in the morning? House got up, head pounding, and headed to his bathroom.  
“Robbie!” He yelled, “That you?”  
Who else would it be? A very hygienic thief? House laughed to himself over his bad joke. What was Chase doing showering this late? Something dawned on him. The Cheater’s Shower. He’d been out with Cameron, while House lie sick in bed. Oh, you can’t be mad at him, you gave him the okay. It would be unfair to just…  
“Greg,” Chase opened the bathroom door, wearing only a towel, “Did you need something?”  
“You were with Cameron,” House stated.  
Chase sighed. “Yes, but nothing happened.”  
“Don’t give me that,” House said, “You don’t sneak in at two am and rush into the shower because ‘nothing happened.’”  
“Even if we DID…” Chase stopped, “You gave me permission.”  
“I know.”  
“Nothing happened,” Chase repeated, “I couldn’t, not with your condition.”  
“Because I’m dying.”  
“Don’t say that.”  
“It’s true. Nine months. Sort of like a…reverse pregnancy.”  
Chase raised an eyebrow, and House pinned him against the wall and began kissing him.  
“I don’t need her.”  
“Sure you don’t.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Patient had a stroke,” Cameron started, “She…”  
“House is dying,” Chase interrupted.  
“What?” Foreman asked.  
“Inoperable brain tumor,” Chase answered, “He’s got less than a year to live.”  
“Y…you’re serious?” Cameron said.  
“Why would I joke about this?” Chase got angry.  
“How do you know he’s not making this up?” Foreman asked.  
“Faking a brain tumor?” Cameron asked.  
“Have you actually seen the tumor?”  
“Saw the scan last week,” Chase answered.  
“He’s using someone else’s,” Foreman suggested, somewhat hopefully.  
“For what reason?” Chase demanded.  
“Attention? To mess with us? It’s House.”  
“The file is under his name,” Chase said, “Check for yourself.”  
…  
“So, first you tell him to sleep with Cameron,” Wilson began, “Then, when he does, you get angry at him.”  
“Not angry.”  
“Then why are you in my office moping?”  
“I’m not moping.”  
“Right,” Wilson said, “So, why’d you let him off the leash in the first place?”  
House was silent.  
“Unless…it was preemptive,” Wilson figured, “Chase is good looking, so how could you possibly expect him to…”  
“Stoop to my level?”  
“A bit blunt.”  
House glared.  
“It’s not true. Chase wants to be with YOU, and he’s not going to run off with someone else.”  
“Of course not,” House said, “Now that I’m dying.”  
“Even if you weren’t dying, he wouldn’t…” Wilson paused, rushing to stop his friend from hitting the ground, “Greg! Oh god!”  
…  
“Still think he’s faking?” Chase asked bitterly with watery eyes.  
“I’m sorry,” Foreman apologized, “Is he…?”  
“Seizure,” Wilson said, “I stopped him from hitting his head but…He’ll be staying here overnight.”  
“How long has he had this?” Foreman asked.  
“I’ve only known for about four months,” Wilson said, “He went all the way to Boston for the diagnoses. I know a few doctors there, and he wouldn’t get checked here.”  
“You referred him,” Foreman figured.  
“I thought…HOPED…that it was the Vicodin, or insomnia, or stress or…anything but brain cancer. Then, when he came back, when he got the results, he refused to show them to me. Until, one day…”  
**_About 4 months ago…_**  
 ** _House tossed a file onto Wilson’s desk. The name read: Gregory House. Wilson opened it silently as House began to speak._**  
 ** _“Patient comes in complaining of headaches,” He began, “Thinks it might be a symptom. Turns out to be an inoperable tumor. Mystery solved.”_**  
 ** _“How long?”_**  
 ** _“How long for…?”_**  
 ** _“How long do y- How long does the ‘patient’ have?”_**  
 ** _“A year. Approximately.”_**  
 ** _“I’m sorry.”_**  
 ** _“Tell that to the patient.”_**  
 ** _“Right. Just…tell them they can come see me any time they want.”_**  
 ** _“Sure.”_**  
 ** _Present…_**  
“Makes sense why he wouldn’t tell us,” Chase said, “He thinks we’d think less of him.”  
…  
“What if it happens again?” Chase asked, “And we’re not there to…”  
“He shouldn’t even be working,” Wilson said.  
“Hey, why don’t you speak up, I don’t think the whole state of New Jersey can hear you!” House yelled.  
Wilson entered the room.  
“Sorry,” He apologized, and House noticed the tears in his eyes.  
“My ears still work, you know.”  
“Feel better?”  
“Other than the brain cancer, yes,” House answered, “Can I get out of here?”  
“Not yet. I’m sorry, House.”  
“You kept me from hitting my head.”  
“No, I mean about…”  
“Wait, YOU put the tumor in my brain? That’s not very nice.”  
“House…”  
“You have nothing to apologize for, so stop.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for mentions of past child sexual abuse

“You’re pathetic,” Chase spoke.  
House’s eyes shot up at the sound of his voice. Why would he say that?   
“It’s just like you to be dying at the same time we start dating,” the Australian chuckled.  
He’s hallucinated enough times to know this isn’t real.  
“You’re not…”  
“Real?” Chase tilted his head, “Couldn’t do this if I wasn’t.”  
“Do wh…” House fell against the edge of his desk, hitting his forehead, “You son of a…”  
Chase was gone, and House was in his office.  
“House, we…” Cameron cut herself off as she entered the office, “What happened? Are you okay?”  
“Yeah,” House stood up, leaning on his desk, and Cameron gave him his cane.  
“What happened?”  
“Chase.”  
…  
“What?” Chase asked of Wilson’s unrelenting gaze.  
“You shoved a dying man who just had a seizure into the size of his desk.”  
Chase sighed and rolled his eyes.   
“He was probably dreaming,” Chase explained, “I wouldn’t hurt him.”  
“I hope you’re telling the truth,” Wilson threatened, “For your sake.”  
…  
“Get away from me,” House said when Chase entered the apartment.  
“I didn’t push you,” Chase said.  
“Sure.”  
“I didn’t call you pathetic either,” Chase ran his thumb over the small bruise on House’s forehead, causing the man to flinch, “Because you’re not pathetic. You’re smart, and determined, and somewhere under all that cynicism, you have a heart.”  
House snickered, then looked at Chase, concerned.  
“I’m scared,” He admitted.  
“S’normal,” Chase nodded, joining House on the couch.  
“Does Cuddy know?”  
“Probably.”  
“She’d make me quit.”  
“You can still work,” Chase said, “You’ve solved three cases, even with…”  
“Don’t,” House interrupted.  
“Sorry.”  
“Hungry?” House said suddenly, “We can order pizza.”  
“Maybe later,” Chase smiled. That was the House he knew.  
“More for me, then.”  
…  
“You’re weak, too,” Chase said.  
“Are you bipolar or something?” House asked.  
“They’re glad you’re dying,” He continued, “We all are.”  
“Shut up.”  
House rubbed his eyes, waking up from his dream. Fake Chase had once again disappeared, and House was alone on the couch, covered with a blanket. Real Chase must have covered him up.  
He stood up and walked to bed, where Chase lied, squirming and whimpering softly.  
“Wombat,” House gently shook Chase, trying to wake him.  
“Please…don’t…”  
“Robbie, it’s okay.”  
Chase opened his eyes, slightly confused, terrified for a split second.  
“Nightmares?” House snuggled up to Chase.  
“Y…yeah?”  
“Begging.”  
“Hmm?”  
“You were begging. Someone was hurting you.”  
Chase looked away.  
“Ex?”  
“No.”  
“Parents?” House asked, and Chase remained silent, “Your mother was a drunk, single parent. Not too far of a leap to say…”  
“Bingo,” Chase interrupted, “You know what happens when you hit someone with a bottle?”  
“Concussion, if you’re lucky.”  
“I was a…stupid, pathetic child and I…made my father leave.”  
“No.”  
“Kept her away from my sister,” He laughed bitterly, “Even when…Why am I telling you this?”   
“Even when what?”  
“She got…really drunk, more than usual, and,” Chase paused, “She thought I was my father.”  
Chase stopped, but the horror and disgust told House all he needed to know.  
“You don’t confuse a small child with a man,” House inquired, “No matter how many damn bottles of…”  
“Stop,” Chase demanded, “It was one time, I barely even remember…”  
“You made sure it was just the once. Probably barricaded your door when she…”  
“Shut up,” Chase groaned.  
“You were a kid,” House said, “Small, defenseless…”  
“I said shut up!”  
“Yeah, you’re completely over it.”  
“You’re an ass.”  
“It’s okay to be traumatized.”  
“I’m not…”  
“Good night, Robbie.”  
“Yeah.”  
…  
Wilson downed another glass of scotch. He hadn’t let House see him break down. And, who was he to judge? Mr. Vicodin fiend, Wilson laughed. His best friend would be dead by New Year’s, if the estimates were correct. What a way to ring in the new year, watching your best friend suffer, writhe in pain as the cancer overtook him. Sure, House was a complete ass, and other adjectives, but underneath it all, a best friend.


End file.
